


Meeting Halfway

by trashmadame



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmadame/pseuds/trashmadame
Summary: Random drabbles on their married life and beyond.Should be noted there WILL be spoilers for LL25.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sharing the worst of your memories with your partner.

Drift’s frame shakes, rattling in a frightening way. He pulls back, hands cupped around his spark as his armor closes around it. His hands shake violently and he grips them close to himself as he begins to pull away.

 

Ratchet immediately grabs him, pulling him close. He whispers loving words in his lover’s audials. 

 

“I shouldn’t have asked—I can’t believe I made you—“

 

“You didn’t. You asked. I agreed. That’s all there is to it.”

 

“I was a part of—“

 

“And you decided not to be anymore.”

 

They both cuddle in silence, save the rattling of Drift’s frame.

 

“I shouldn’t have shown this particular memory to you.” Ratchet finally says, stroking gentle fingers along Drift’s finials. 

 

Drift snaps his helm up from Ratchet’s neck, optics shimmering—glinting guilt. “Ratchet, I want to take all of your pain and make it my own. I owe you this much.” He wraps his arms around Ratchet’s waist, pulling him into a tighter embrace. “I owe you so much!”

 

“You don’t owe me anything.” Ratchet says, simply, and presses a long kiss to the corner of Drift’s eye. He feels the overbearing heat of his optics on his lips. “I love you."


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Living after.

The worst of it was when Drift realized that all of his habits, his routines, revolved around Ratty.

He stood in the middle of their apartment hallway—ten steps from their shared office to their berth room—and his frame was uncomfortably still. 

He turned quickly to the kitchen, mindlessly making himself something. He wasn’t even sure what he was making, he just continued to do something else. Something that didn’t involve Ratchet. 

Just a couple kliks earlier he saw something on his data pad that made him laugh so hard he thought he would hurl the contents of his tanks. Without even a thought, as if being haunted, he made his way to their—his berth room. 

He could imagine how it normally would’ve played out. He would tackle the empty space next to Ratchet, who took longer to get out of berth on their days off, and he would tell him through cackles about the funniest thing he had just read.

“Was it really that funny?” Ratchet would ask without any venom, his optics soft and inviting.

Drift would look up with a calmer smile. “Maybe I just used it as an excuse to bother you?”

“As if you need an excuse. Come here, sweetspark.”

Drift looked down at what he was holding in his hands and sighed, appetite gone, and dumped the contents into his sink. 

“A waste of food, as if you were a new age sparkling.” He reprimanded himself in an all too familiar tone.

His voice dissipated into nothing. Cold.


End file.
